


give everything

by wrabbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Comment Fic, Feeding, Food, Formerly Anonymous, Illnesses, M/M, Nourishing, Prompt Fic, h/c, shkinkmeme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:17:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrabbit/pseuds/wrabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson tries one last thing to get Holmes to eat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give everything

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anon's shkinkmeme prompt: "A situation where Holmes is so dangerously ill/weak that Watson has to chew his food so that Holmes can keep it down."

It was now the seventh day of his illness. It began with "a minor cough, Watson, I assure you" that settled into a wheeze and, by day four, horrible wrenching nausea that would accept neither sustenance nor, eventually, fluid either. On Sunday, Watson carried him to the sitting room where he could monitor Holmes more easily when he finally collapsed into a restless sleep that afternoon. His eyes slivered open as Watson stripped the bed and gathered his long limbs together to best lift him out, but Holmes was too weak to even aid him by wrapping his arms around Watson's neck and Watson pushed away the first rush of real fear.

"Help!" he cried as he made it into the sitting room to find Mrs. Hudson throwing the curtains open. She rushed to the sofa at once, clearing it of a tea tray loaded with old cups and collected the sheets from the bedroom as Watson set him down. Watson kneeled to check his fever, but he was chilled with sweat. Holmes glanced around to ascertain his new location with red ringed eyes as Watson arranged his limbs. His lips twitched in a smile once before drifting off again. Watson had never seen him so limp, so tired and willing to be managed, and he had never himself felt so incapable to manage; he helped pull the blankets up to Holmes's chin, compulsively checking the pulse at the wrist.

He looked up to find Mrs. Hudson watching him with a sympathetic expression he couldn't have faulted her for and he tried for a consoling smile. "Will he eat anything?"

Holmes coughed weakly in his sleep, but he hadn't evacuated his stomach, or been forced to try, for nearly five hours. And it had been nearly twice that since Watson had coaxed a glass of water in to him, only to have it spectacularly rejected minutes later. "No, I don't think so," he said and considered for a moment, frowning. "But we might try something simple. Chicken. Potatoes. Some milk, perhaps."

She ran a hand across his shoulder before stepping out. Watson tried to read the mail while she worked downstairs, but he couldn't seem to look away from Holmes dozing restlessly, meditating on the hair sticking to his creased brow, his long legs curled on the sofa, the open shirt that Watson had not bothered buttoning after the last one became soaked in sweat. Somehow he was even more distracting incapacitated than awake and causing chaos.

A rattling tray surprised him out of his thoughts. "Wonderful. Just over here, please." He pulled a footstool over by the sofa and thanked her profusely as Mrs. Hudson set down a tray loaded with a full teapot and cups, a glass of milk, roasted chicken and steaming potatoes.

He stared as she suddenly leaned down over Holmes, brushing the hair off his brow. "Listen to your dear Doctor, Mr. Holmes," she murmured quickly into his ear. Watson choked when he thought he saw her wink at him before shutting the door behind.

He speared a small potato on a fork and examined Holmes from the edge of the sofa. He was breathing slower, prompting the tell-tale wheeze that told Watson he was awake. "Are you hungry?" he asked quietly. Holmes opened one eye to regard him and the potato suspiciously.

"You have to try, Holmes." Watson sighed. Holmes's eyes fell shut again and he leaned to his side, his bent knees falling against Watson's back, for all appearances asleep once more. Watson poured himself a cup of tea and picked at the chicken slowly, letting him rest, the sinking feeling that there was nothing else he could do leeching at him again.

"Holmes," he tried again. Holmes hummed quietly. He turned his head as Watson leaned forward to kiss his cheek, slotting their lips together chastely. Watson kissed him slowly, carefully, some hope detonating in his chest as Holmes's lips fell open for him. His mouth was dry, and there was no hint of his usual tobacco, having had nothing to smoke for nearly a week.

Watson leaned back with an idea in his head. "You may never forgive me for this," he said and smiled to himself. Holmes's eyes remained shut as he broke off a piece of potato, mashing it with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He leaned down before he could become acutely embarrassed and captured Holmes's lips again.

At first it seemed Holmes would never kiss him back and he would be forced to swallow. Watson teased his lip with his tongue and after a long moment Holmes, apparently supposing nothing of his intentions, languidly slipped the tip of his tongue past Watson's teeth. He twitched back at what he found there and Watson had to force down a grin before Holmes could shut down completely. He held Holmes in place with one hand on his cheek, desperate for it to work, until Holmes finally let him in with a small noise of disbelief. He swallowed automatically.

Watson pulled back, swallowing the rest of it, and wiped his mouth. He smiled as Holmes glared balefully, but didn't muster the energy to complain. A few minutes later when the food hadn't reappeared, he was watching intently as Watson tore off a piece of chicken and raised it to his own mouth. Holmes accepted him quicker this time, sucking the food off his tongue. He moaned a little as he swallowed, loud in the quiet room, and Watson groaned against his lips.

"Dear god, Holmes," he whispered and reached for a piece of bread.


End file.
